Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady
by wyles77
Summary: Liara tries to get to grips with her feelings in the immediate aftermath of Sovereign's attack. Sometimes, it seems, you can have too much time to think. Better Angels 'verse, one-shot, Liara/FemShep.


**Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady**

Liara T'Soni is nervous.

It's not a new state of being for her; in fact, in most social settings, it could be considered her default state. She dislikes large crowds, dislikes being the focal point of a group's attention. As a researcher, giving presentations is a necessary evil, and while she has conditioned herself to the nausea and shivers that always precede her speaking engagements, she never fully manages to keep them under control. Parties make her self-conscious, painfully aware that she does not share any interests with many of her peers, that she does not know how to maintain a conversation consisting solely of small talk, that she cannot make herself care about fashion, or the club scene, or sporting contests.

But those callow, adolescent uncertainties pale in comparison to her anxiousness at being at the centre of attention for the galactic media. Admittedly, the limelight is something she has inherited by association rather than on her own merits, but that is hardly a comfort when the camera drones are suddenly hovering a metre from her face. She dares not swat at the infernal things, lest the action cause more attention to be paid, but her bid to simply walk unnoticed across the Presidium from her temporary quarters in the Consort's suites to the Huerta Memorial medical facility seems doomed to failure. One of the drones whistles shrilly as its facial recognition software turns up a match, and within a minute, nausea swooping through her stomach, Liara is surrounded by reporters from all over the galaxy, all clamouring for her attention, all eager for answers, like razorfish circling a drowning swimmer.

"Dr. T'Soni!"

"Doctor, can you tell us the latest on Commander Shepard's condition?"

"Can you comment on your mother's involvement with Saren? Did you join the Spectre operation to salvage the reputation of your house?"

"Do you accept responsibility for your mother's contribution to a terrorist attack that cost thousands of lives?"

"Curiously: why would Commander Shepard extend trust to the daughter of a known traitor?"

The questions blend into a furious whirlpool of sound, indistinct and unintelligible, as the reporters shout over one another, desperate to pick up even a nugget of information. Liara casts about frantically, looking for a way out, disoriented by the bright lights and flashguns on the camera drones. She does not want to talk about what has happened in the past few weeks, not yet. She doesn't feel ready to. It's been less than twenty-four hours since Saren's death, since the battle for the Citadel was narrowly won. Less than twenty-four hours since Shepard had collapsed in the rubble of the Council chamber, bleeding, battered black and blue from the building falling in on her, and been stretchered away. Wrex, unharmed save for a gash to his forehead that he decreed inconsequential, had stomped off in the direction of the wards muttering about needing a drink. Liara hasn't seen or heard anything about either of her comrades since. Comms are restricted to emergency traffic, and the Normandy has not yet docked, assisting with sweeps to clear out the remaining geth vessels under Admiral Hackett's command. Left to fend for herself in the chaos, Liara had made her way to the Consort's courtyard, where Sha'ira had promptly dispatched her to her personal physician and had one of her acolytes arrange a meal and quarters. Liara had eaten, bathed, and crashed out, awaking this morning to a terrible sense of loneliness and uncertainty, the need to see Shepard gnawing at her like hunger. And so, after breaking fast, she'd set out to cross the Presidium to the hospital, never anticipating for a second that she would be ambushed by a pack of journalists.

Her exit route disappears as the crowd shifts, and she's hemmed in. The questions are louder, more insistent, but no more comprehensible as the crowd jockeys for position and the camera drones flash again. Anxiety starts to scrabble in her chest. "Please, let me past!" she pleads. "I'm sorry, I have nothing to say right now."

The babble breaks out once more, the drones press closer, sensing blood in the water, and the panic surges up her throat. She barely stifles a scream as a strong hand lands on her shoulder, but then a brawny arm pulls her into a protective hold, and a deep, gruff voice growls, "You heard the Doctor, she's got nothing to say. Now get those goddamn cameras out of her face and show a little respect. This woman helped save all your asses in the battle yesterday, and you ambush her on her way to the hospital for a check-up? How goddamn low can you people go? Clear a path there, before I call C-Sec and have you all tossed into lock-up for obstructing an emergency evac route."

It's Shepard's superior officer, Captain Anderson. Liara sags against his solid frame in relief, letting him guide her out of the suddenly chastened scrum of reporters. The burly human propels her quickly through the doors of the hospital, and turns to face her, a concerned frown wrinkling his dark features. "You OK, Doctor?" he asks. "That was getting a little out of hand."

"I.. I'm fine, just a little... overwhelmed," Liara admits, breath still coming in short gasps as she tries to calm her heart rate. "I was... not expecting that I would generate such interest. Thank you for rescuing me, Captain."

"My pleasure," Anderson replies. "So, are you here to get checked out?" His frown deepens. "Did no one check up on you yesterday?"

"The Consort arranged for me to have medical treatment, and found me a place to stay. I assure you, I am perfectly well."

"Damn, I'm sorry, Doctor," Anderson apologises shamefacedly. "You're a member of Shepard's crew - our people should have made sure you were attended to. Do you know what happened to Wrex?"

"No, I'm afraid not. He wasn't injured, so he said he was going for a drink. Most likely he's sleeping on the floor in Chora's Den or C-Sec have arrested him again. Either way, I'm sure he's quite happy. Please, Captain," Liara holds up one hand to forestall his reply, "it's all right. There was so much going on, and I am quite capable of fending for myself. I am fine. I came to the hospital because..." she feels herself blush, "I was hoping to be able to see Shepard. I haven't heard anything, I don't even know..." she tails off as the enormity of what she doesn't know hits home. Is Shepard seriously injured? Will Liara even be allowed to see her; she is not a relative, and she can hardly call herself the Commander's...what? Lover? Partner? They have spent just one night together - does that give her any sort of right to make demands? "I don't know if it's even allowed," she admits dejectedly, "but I would like to be able to see how she is. I am worried about her."

Anderson studies her intently for a moment, then smiles gently. "I think we can arrange that." He leads Liara over to the reception desk, and gives her name to the clerk. The salarian blinks a few times as he checks his records, then nods.

"Oh, yes, that's no problem, Captain. The Commander has listed Dr. T'Soni as a registered guest - she's free to visit as she pleases." The clerk hands Liara an adhesive ID patch. "Stick that on the back of your hand please, Doctor - it will allow you entry to the Commander's treatment room. Take the first elevator on the left up six floors, go through decontamination, and follow the corridor. The Commander's room is on the left, number six thirty-six."

"Thank you," Liara replies, reassured that at least Shepard seems to want to see her. She looks up at Anderson. "And thank you, Captain. Are you coming, too?"

"Not right now," Anderson declines. "I was actually on my way to see Udina, but you looked like you needed rescuing. And listen, I'm sorry again for the way you and Wrex got dropped yesterday - regardless of the fact that you can look after yourselves, that shouldn't have been allowed to happen."

"It's all right, Captain, you had enough to worry about. The Consort's staff took good care of me." She offers a smile. "And I'm sure if you buy Wrex that drink, he'll be more than mollified."

"Good then. I'll see you later, Doctor."

"Goodbye, Captain."

Liara takes the elevator the salarian indicated, and in less than two minutes she's standing outside the door of Shepard's room. Her uncertainty returns in force. What will she find? Shepard did not seem to be too badly injured, but there might have been complications. And although her permission to visit seems a positive sign, Liara has no experience with such things - perhaps Shepard registered all of her crew? Does she have any right to expect that Shepard wants to continue their relationship, that she can assume some sort of primacy in the Commander's priorities? Liara bites her lip worriedly. Goddess, she has never felt so off-balance, so unsure. She has seen into Shepard's mind, she knows the human holds feelings for her, how much she enjoyed their union, so why is she so concerned? Is it simply that there has been no time to catch a breath, to analyse, to really talk about their night together, about what comes next? Liara has never dealt well with uncertainty, with spontaneity, and while she and Shepard spent _some_ time talking during their lovemaking, the subject of what their relationship has become was not broached; in the end, there was no opportunity. From the moment of Joker's announcement of their approach to the Mu relay, there was nothing but the mission. Except for one brief moment...

_Liara starts to protest as Shepard issues orders to Wrex to retrieve the data files from Vigil that will corrupt the relay mechanism on the Citadel. She has been running as many scans as her omni-tool will allow, but this is the greatest find in the history of Prothean archaeology, the opportunity of a lifetime. The power is failing; this is the only chance anyone will ever have to investigate._

_She says so, breathlessly, but Shepard gestures to Wrex to continue, and then steps close, tugging off her right glove, and cupping Liara's cheek tenderly with her warm, bare hand. There's genuine regret in her eyes as she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Liara," she says gently, but firmly. "We have to stop Saren. Nothing else matters, and seconds may count."_

_Liara blushes furiously at getting so carried away. "Goddess, I'm... I'm so sorry, Shepard, I..."_

_Shepard leans in, presses her lips quickly against Liara's. "Don't be sorry," she urges. "I understand." _

Shaking herself, Liara gathers her courage, the memory reassuring her of the warmth with which the Commander regards her. Whatever is about to happen, standing here moping will not change it, and the uncertainty will surely only become worse with time. And the need to know Shepard really is all right is rapidly eclipsing all other concerns. Taking a deep breath, she steps to the door, and it slides silently aside.

Shepard is asleep, laid supine in the half-reclined hospital bed. Her right arm is strapped across her chest. Doubtless she has hurt her shoulder again - the injury has recurred twice since Noveria - but otherwise, some yellowing bruising down the side of her face and the long, ragged cut above her left eyebrow notwithstanding, she seems relatively undamaged. Her chest rises and falls in a slow, even rhythm, and the muted beeps of the various monitoring devices are placid, regular, steady. There are no medical staff standing vigil; Shepard would seem to be in no danger.

Relief floods Liara, and she lets out a long, slow breath. Spotting a stack of chairs by the window, she lifts one, ignoring the protestations of her stiff muscles, sets it at Shepard's left side, and sits down. The human's hand is resting on the covers. Liara obeys her first impulse, grasps the still, slack fingers, lifts Shepard's hand, and, daring greatly, brushes a kiss across the back of it. The warm suppleness of the skin beneath her lips provokes a sudden sharp recollection; _Shepard lying on her bed, hands tucked beneath her head as she allows Liara to explore her body. Shepard arching up into her touch as she caresses the soft, sensitive flesh of the human's breasts._

A wave of sudden heat rolls through Liara, and she exhales slowly to try and assert some control over the sudden urge to climb onto the bed and wrap her arms around the sleeping human. As a compromise, she runs her thumb across the Spectre's knuckles in a slow repetition as she rests their joined hands on the covers, taking the opportunity to study the woman who has come to mean so much to her in such a short space of time. Shepard's fire-streaked auburn hair frames her face, relaxed in sleep. She looks younger when she is at peace, absent the mask of the Commander, absent the burden of the responsibility for ship and crew. A fine spray of freckles, not dissimilar to the marks on Liara's own face, dust the bridge of the human's nose and cheeks. Her pale tan skin is very different to the asari's however, lacking the fine scales that cover most of Liara's body. Shepard's skin is smooth, and warm. Liara's fingers drift up the Spectre's forearm, registering the taut muscle beneath the skin, and once again, touch triggers memory, and memory triggers arousal.

Biting her lip, Liara withdraws her hand. Is this going to happen all the time from now on? Will every tactile contact with Shepard evoke such an erotic recall? Discomfited, she rises from the chair and paces over to the window, staring out over the still smouldering Presidium, trying to collect her thoughts. No one has ever had this kind of effect on her before. Not surprising, the rational part of her mind points out. Shepard is the only sexual partner Liara has known, and their first coupling was barely two days ago; it is natural that her most acute perception of the Spectre pertains to their most intimate and emotive interaction. It is likely that if the experience is not repeated, the effect will lessen, but that thought distresses Liara far more than her mild discomfort with her newfound reaction. Even as she tries to dismiss that thought, her mind seizes upon a new concern - how is she going to explain this to Shepard when she awakens?

"Hey."

The word is soft, barely more than a whisper, but Liara jumps as though stung by it, whirling away from the window, gaze locking on to the bed.

Shepard is watching her, her vivid green eyes still cloudy with sleep, but a lazy, lopsided smile is pulling at her mouth. "It's good to see you, Liara," she murmurs. "Are you all right?"

"Am I...?" Liara hurries over to the bed, dropping into the seat and retrieving Shepard's hand, pleased when the human squeezes her fingers. "I'm fine, Shepard. You're the one in hospital, shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Shepard sighs, and Liara is surprised to see tension draining from the human's frame. "I just... nobody could tell me where you were, or if you were OK." She smiles, almost shyly. "I was worried about you."

Liara shakes her head, amazed. "You were worried about me? I say again, Shepard, you are the one in hospital."

"Yeah, so I knew I was OK," Shepard chuckled. "And is there someone else in the room?"

Liara looks around, confused. "No. Why?"

Shepard tightens her grip, drawing Liara toward her. "Well, two reasons. One, you don't have to call me Shepard."

Liara blushes. "I'm sorry, Rachel. It's force of habit."

"And two," Shepard pulls her closer, "I'd really like to kiss you."

"Oh." The little word drops out of Liara's mouth before her brain can engage, and Shepard laughs.

"You're adorable, do you know that, Li? C'mere." She drops Liara's hand to pat the bed at her side. Liara grants the request, rising from the chair and perching on the edge of the bed. Shepard reaches up and snags the neckline of the tunic Sha'ira lent her, and pulls her down until their mouths meet. Liara drops her left hand to the bed to support herself, but buries the fingers of her right hand in Shepard's soft, thick hair. Her heartbeat starts to thunder in her ears as Shepard's hand slides around to cup the back of her neck, stroking the sensitive folds beneath her crest with a measured, deliberate touch. Her hand slips, and she falls forward, pinning Shepard beneath her and inadvertently breaking their contact. Shepard's arm locks around her back, holding her close, and her mouth drifts across Liara's cheek. "I'm glad you're here," she murmurs.

_She wants me to be here_. Liara wraps her arms around Shepard's neck and leans into her embrace, burying her face in the junction between the human's neck and shoulder as her emotions overwhelm her, relief foremost among them. Mortifyingly, she finds that tears have begun to stream down her cheeks, and her breath is sobbing in her throat.

"Hey," Shepard whispers, "what's wrong, sweetheart?"

"N-nothing," Liara stutters. "Please, Rachel, just hold me."

""I can do that," Shepard agrees simply, tightening her arm across Liara's shoulders.

Granted a moment to collect herself, Liara drags in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Shepard's skin, and feeling the warmth of Shepard's body pressed close to her, the silken strands of her hair laced between her fingers, the gentle, reassuring slide of Shepard's hand down her back. The sense of safety and security she has come to associate with the Spectre's embrace follows close behind. Sitting back, she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

"OK?" Shepard asks softly.

"OK," Liara agrees. "Thank you, Rachel, I... I'm glad to be here. "

"Want to tell me about it?" Shepard invites.

Liara nods, and the human smiles, her pleasure at Liara's trust evident. She taps the remote control tucked into her right hand, and the back of the bed raises slightly. Shifting to her right, she holds out her left arm in invitation. "C'mon. Sit with me, and tell me what's bothering you."

Liara kicks off the sandals of her borrowed outfit and swings her legs up onto the bed, nestling under Shepard's arm and resting her head against the human's shoulder. Shepard drapes her arm so that her hand rests just below Liara's collarbone, and presses a kiss to her temple. "You look beautiful, by the way, Liara," she offers. "That colour really suits you."

Liara looks down at the jade sleeveless tunic and skirt ensemble Sha'ira's acolytes had pressed upon her that morning. It lacks the revealing cut-outs of the acolyte's uniforms, thankfully, but Liara had given almost no thought to her appearance, more concerned with finding out what was going on, and the unexpected compliment flushes her cheeks. "You think so?" she asks shyly.

"I do," Shepard confirms. "You're beautiful no matter what you wear, but that really does flatter you."

"It's not the only flattering thing around here," Liara retorts with a grin, given confidence by Shepard's open admiration.

"Better," Shepard chuckles, tweaking Liara's chin affectionately. "Much better. So what's on your mind?"

Liara sighs, trying to hang on to the relaxed confidence Shepard has instilled. "I was worried about you. I wanted to see you, to be sure you were all right. They rushed you away so abruptly, and I didn't know where they took you, or what was happening. Sha'ira had to make enquiries for me to even find out which hospital you were in. And..." Liara can feel her cheeks heating again; Goddess, she is so unused to expressing her wishes for intimacy, "I wanted to hold you in my arms again, be held by you, but... I wasn't sure I had any right to expect it. I didn't even know for sure that you would..." She trails off. She can't say it; to do so would surely imply that she does not trust Shepard's word, or her feelings. She can't bring herself to insult Rachel like that.

Shepard takes a deep breath, then lets out a long sigh. "I dislocated my shoulder again, and I have a concussion from the building collapse, which is why they're keeping me in. As a precaution." She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Chakwas would already have released me to quarters on the Normandy, I'm pretty sure. I've been dozing on and off, but I'm not sedated, and I'm not out of my head on painkillers. I've been lucid, more or less, the whole time I've been stuck in here. Nobody would tell me anything, and not knowing where you were, or if you were all right, was driving me nuts. So I'll call us even on that score." She brushes her thumb down Liara's cheek. "As for the rest of it... You know I care about you. Do you really doubt yourself that much?"

"Yes," Liara admits, suddenly ashamed, vulnerable to her lover's perceptive observation. "I have no experience to compare this to. I don't know if I'm... if I'm..."

"If you're what?"

"If I'm doing it right!" Liara bursts out in sudden frustration, irritated by her inadequacies. "Goddess, I needed sleep medication to get my mind off you last night. When I'm not actively concentrating, I start remembering...us... and I can't even touch you without imagining how it felt when you... when we... I remember what the meld felt like, and it was the most wonderful thing, and... On Ilos, whenever there was a lull, I couldn't take my eyes off you, and..." She sits up, turning to regard Shepard, aware that her cheeks are now flaming with embarrassment. "Rachel, I want more. I want to spend time with you, learn more about you. I want to make love with you again, I want to feel your mind join with mine. But it's so much to ask of you, and..."

"Liara..." Rachel sits up straight, the asari's name and the movement enough to cut off the tortured rambling spilling from Liara's mouth. A small part of her is horrified that she seems to have no control over her babbling, but more of her is relieved to have been able to admit it. Still, she must sound quite the fool.

"I'm sorry, you must think me such an idiot, and..."

"Liara!" Shepard nearly shouts to cut her off.

"What?"

Shepard's eyes are sparkling with amusement and affection, and she cups Liara's cheek with her hand. She leans in till their foreheads are touching, her lips inches from Liara's, her gaze captivating.

"You're doing it right."

Their lips meet, and Liara moans softly as a bolt of electricity zaps down her spine and coils somewhere deep in her abdomen. She opens her mouth, lets Shepard deepen the kiss, hears the human groan, a sound redolent with desire, as their tongues tangle and tease. The compulsion to begin a meld howls through Liara, and she fights it down with difficulty as they break for air.

"Woah," Shepard mutters, almost to herself, as she flops back onto the bed. "Suddenly I feel kinda winded. In the best possible way." She grabs Liara's hand. "Listen to me, please. As cute as all this uncertainty is to watch, let me set your mind at rest. I want more, too. I'm sorry there wasn't time for me to make that clearer before we jumped to Ilos. I thought I'd been pretty up front, but I forgot that you don't have a lot of experience, and I also forgot that you're not human." Shepard blushes slightly. "You can take that as a mark of how comfortable I feel around you. So, I think maybe I assumed some knowledge that was clearly lacking. For the record, there were at least three occasions on Ilos where I wanted to put you up against the wall and do..." Shepard grins, "some _very_ wicked things to you, but then Wrex would interrupt my train of thought and..." she shudders, "you know what, best not to think about that too hard. I want to know more about you too, I want you to know me, and I definitely," she brushes a kiss against the tip of Liara's nose, "want to make love to you again. As often as you'll let me." She draws back a little, forest green eyes tinged with sincerity. "You already know me pretty well, but we've never talked about my past relationships. Mostly they're irrelevant, except for this one point; I don't do casual. If I wasn't interested in a serious relationship with you, I wouldn't have encouraged you. Now," she smiles again, "I'm assuming the next few days will be taken up with debriefings and ceremonies and the like, but once that's done with, and while the Normandy is undergoing resupply, I'm planning on taking a week's shore leave to check out the apartment on Intai'sei that Admiral Ahern signed over to me." Shepard squeezes Liara's hand. "I'd like you to come with me. We can," she grins coyly, "get to know each other properly. With no possibility of Joker interrupting."

Liara stares at Shepard for a moment, trying to process everything the human has just said. It seems too good to be true. "You want to spend your leave with me?"

Shepard arches a sarcastic eyebrow. "Is there an echo in here?" She nods slowly, deliberately. "Yes, Liara, I do."

"But... don't you have family you want to see? Friends?"

"My Mom can't get leave to coincide," Shepard replies, "ditto most of my friends. One of the downsides of being a spacer kid is that almost no one you know is ever in the same place, at the same time, as you. I spoke to my Mom last night, she knows I'm OK."

"I'm glad," Liara offers supportively, even though her stomach churns at the thought that she can no longer offer her mother the same reassurances. Shepard grimaces.

"Shit... I'm sorry, Liara, that was thoughtless of me," she apologizes.

"No, it's all right," Liara protests. "Truly, I'm glad your mother knows you are well."

Shepard nods. "OK, but let's get back to the point. There's no one I would rather spend my shore leave with than you. Will you please come with me to Intai'sei?"

Delight flowers in Liara at Shepard's words. "Yes," she breathes. "Yes, Rachel, I would love to spend your shore leave with you."

Shepard smiles, a full-blown lopsided grin that makes her eyes shine. "Excellent. It's all working out according to the script."

"The script?"

"Yeah. It's been a proper heroic saga, straight out of the legends." She makes a fist with her left hand, then extends her thumb. "I set out to stop a once-great hero now fallen from grace." She extends her index finger to indicate a second point. "I brought together a diverse and unlikely group of skilled companions to assist my quest, uncovered an evil plot to destroy the kingdom, rescued the damsel in distress from the renegade," she winks at Liara, "overcame numerous hurdles, setbacks, and fiendish puzzles," she resets the count on her left hand, "swept the aforementioned damsel off her feet, and confronted and defeated the enemy in a titanic final battle." Shepard chuckles. "And now, I get to kiss the girl and ride off with her into the sunset to live happily ever after."

Liara cocks her head to one side, considering. "That's unsettlingly accurate," she decides, "except for the fact of the Reapers still being out there."

"That's for the sequel," Shepard points out solemnly. "You always leave your readers hungry for more."

"Of course," Liara agrees with a smile. Settling back against the bed, she draws Shepard's arm around her neck. "So, did I hear you say you had to kiss the girl?"

Shepard grins. "You're getting bold, I see ... But, faint heart never won fair lady, as they say, so if I may?" She turns Liara's face toward her and as she closes the distance, one thing is entirely apparent to both of them.

Liara T'Soni is nervous no longer.


End file.
